


Bullets and Bite Marks

by CassanderRoshack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassanderRoshack/pseuds/CassanderRoshack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Complete smut. John comes home to Sherlock... in a rather strange position. Sex writing for the sole reason to read sex.</p><p>Edited by the fantastic WrittenFIRES. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bullets and Bite Marks

John stepped into the little flat of 221 Baker Street and his eyebrows furrowed almost instantly. There was music playing that definitely was not a violin. He had heard it somewhere before and swallowed anxiously as he walked up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson was out visiting her grandchildren so it would not be her. Even if she did listen to that sort of music. "Sherlock?" He called out; the music was loud but not enough to hurt his ears. He had a hand on one side of his head as he attempted to block out the noise.

The moment John stepped foot into the flat he felt his body pushed and pinned against the door; effectively closing it with a loud slam. His eyes widened as his heart began to race. "What the He- Sherlock! What are you doing?!"

Sherlock looked down at him with a passive expression. "I could say a number of things right now... none of which you would believe if I told you…." Sherlock breathed.

"I don't... I don't understand...." John muttered; leaning back into the door and staring up at his flat-mate. The taller male leaned down until he was mere inches from his face.

"If this were a better time, I'd take advantage of it. But there is a trip wire in the kitchen and a sniper trained on us if we move..." he whispered huskily.

"Wait... what? Advantage? Sherlock, what the Hell is wrong with you?" John swallowed nervously as his eyes frantically- briefly- scanned the room before returning to Sherlock's. The trip wire he could handle; the sniper a bit difficult but... Sherlock was so closely pressed up against John could feel something poking his thigh that certainly was not a gun.

"I believe someone has spiked the drinks in this house. We should leave- or you should shoot the sniper, while I stop the explosives in our kitchen." His face was dangerously close to John's now. To the point that the shorter man could smell the peppermint Christmas tea he had recently purchased on Sherlock's breath.

John couldn't help but lick his lips. He released a shaky breath before sending a brief look down towards his thigh. "They certainly spiked it with something rather... erm... strong. And I just bought that damn tea yesterday...." he mumbled in attempt to distract himself. It was not working. John could feel his body start to heat drastically and it definitely did not help that Sherlock's own warmth was melding with his. "You? Stopping explosives? You'll probably get us killed and I have absolutely no idea where the sniper is- and must you be so damn close?"

Sherlock smirked and skimmed his lips over John's cheek so lightly the other man was not sure he felt it at all. "Why yes... if we get too far apart the sniper might get you." He chuckled and pulled John's gun out of his side holster. "Have I ever told you how much I love a man that carries a big gun?" A shudder ran up John's spine and he swore Sherlock had pushed harder into him. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins which did not help his situation at all.

"I think you've effectively covered the 'too far apart' issue and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And you, for that matter," he countered quietly. Meanwile, his hand had instantly reached and grabbed Sherlock's as he felt his partner take out the gun. The other reached to grip the front of the man's collar tightly as he spoke in a low, slightly raspy tone. "No, you haven't, actually. What are you doing?"

"Me? I'm just taking your gun out to shoot the sniper before he shoots one of us." Sherlock said with a grin that straddled the border between sadistic and gleeful. "Why don't you take care of that bomb before we go boom?" He laughed lightly. He was so high and sexually turned on by the situation he wanted to just grab John and drag him to the bedroom; sod the sniper and the bomb both. The music was pounding to drown out their voices just in case the house was wired with listening devices though he also loved the beat making his mind blur.

"You're bloody insane, Sherlock, and totally off your rocker. Besides, you won't be able to shoot the sniper with that. Not with any sort of effective aim...." he gritted out. His toes were curling in his shoes and there was something so absolutely arousing from the situation he thought a lot more than just the bomb could "go boom". "How do you suppose that I'm going to take care of that damn bomb, Sherlock? Give me the gun." Sherlock smirked before walking over to the window. He took aim and fired a single shot into the apartment across the street. The man who was sitting in plain sight- like a complete moron- screamed and fell to the lower roof below.

The shooter struggled up from where he had fallen; holding his bleeding shoulder. His mouth was hanging open and when he saw Sherlock wink at him he ran. The detective walked over to the bomb to examine it. "How dull, I was expecting something more... entertaining. Shall you cut the wire of its restraint or shall I?" he questioned almost boredly. The words slipped out like he was caressing them with his tongue.

John fought between letting out a whine, grabbing the man and clocking him in the face or letting out a groan of sheer exasperation as he watched the other easily stride over and shoot the sniper before cautiously stepping out into the living room. He looked around carefully before following the taller man into the kitchen. "Oh yes, bombs. Dull? Not explosive enough for your taste, then? You're beyond high right now, Sherlock, let me...."

Sherlock winked again as John bent down to address the bomb; drinking from a tea cup off to the side. "Whatever this is laced with tastes magnificent... would you like some?" he droned huskily as he felt his pants grow tighter around him. "I must say that jumper is one of your worst.... We should get it off of you as soon as possible."

John snipped the wire just as he heard Sherlock slurp from his mug and instantly snapped back up. "Sherlock! What the hell are you doing!? No, I wouldn't like some and -" His voice caught in his throat and a flush rose to his cheeks as he tried to stand up straight as possible before gesturing to the very obvious tent in Sherlock's trousers. "I think you've had more than enough of that stuff for the both of us and for the record; you bought me this jumper. I think the more... pressing issue here really is in your pants."

Sherlock grinned evily and glanced down at the "problem". "Oh, did I buy you that? I didn't remember. I'd still prefer it off though... and if my pants are such a pressing issue, why don't you take them off of me and take care of the problem?"

John's eyebrows rose and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "It's a pressing issue for you, Sherlock. I don't see why I have to take care of it. Besides, you're going to have to do a much better job than that- especially considering that we both could have just been killed. Most likely because of something you've done."

Sherlock downed the entire cup of tea and physically shivered. "Me? Why do you always blame me, my dear Watson?" He came up to him and let a finger trace around the man's shoulders and down his spin as he walked around him. Almost like a predator did to prey until he stopped and put said finger under his chin. He leaned down and let John taste the sweet drug on his lips, enjoying the feelings he was getting. John shivered and felt oddly like he was being regarded as Sherlock's next meal (he had not seen him eat for almost a week and that fact alone provided enough support for his theory). The fingers down his spine felt like they left the skin beneath the jumper on fire in their wake. He was about to say something when he felt Sherlock's lips on his and then he essentially said, "Screw it!" before pressinh their lips together. Sherlock was right.

"That does taste remarkable... or maybe that's just you..." he muttered. Whatever the substance was... it was... very similar to the taste of sugar? Almost... like it was not anything but the said substance. Sherlock was not faking this, was he?

"Hrm... how about another taste? Just to make sure it wasn't your imagination. We can't let a good deduction go unfinished…" Sherlock muttered; his light blue eyes glazed with lust. His hand skimmed until it was holding John's lower back and the other found its way into John's hair.

The blond let out a soft grunt as he was pulled closer. "Sherlock..." he murmured before leaning up to suck on the detective's lower lip. "I still can't tell, but there is definitely something not Sherlock in there.... Although, how do I know this isn't the drug acting or speaking...?"

Sherlock bit John's lip gently, then lowered his hand to the point where he could grab a fist-full of John's nicely rounded left ass cheek. The other clasped John's hair and knotted it as he spoke. "What if I said there wasn't a drug at all and I have a need powerful enough to bring down the house if I don't have you? I've waited four years and I don't think I can hold on any longer...."

John gasped; reaching forward to grab Sherlock by the collar and pull him closer. "I would bloody well kill you... later... after you show me just how much you've wanted me. You're an idiot for waiting," he growled out. Reaching up, he pressed their lips together again without any restraint.

Sherlock could not help but grin as he pushed deeper into the kiss; licking John's lips for entrance. When granted, he let his tongue slip in and explore the other man's mouth. He traced it and memorized every spot that made him groan. The taller male slightly moved his hips to grind into the other. "You don't know what you do to me."

John wound his arms around the detective. Clutching at his shirt, he weaved his fingers into Sherlock's dark curls and tugged gently. He released a very obvious moan as he felt Sherlock's hips dip and grind into his and pulled the man flush against him in response. "I think I do.... Bloody Hell, Sherlock," he groaned out between meeting Sherlock's tongue with his. The muscles were trying to wrap around each other as if they really could not be close enough.

"We should take this to the bedroom now. We don't want to scar the neighbors more than we already have...." Sherlock moaned. Truth be told, he did not care about them but he knew John would have his head if they brought it up to him later. He grabbed the man's ass hard and let the other hand skim up his shirt; feeling the pectorals.

"Shit, Sherlock..." John growled as he pushed into the hand on his chest and began working Sherlock's buttons. "Sod it," he mumbled and instead started pushing Sherlock through the kitchen into his bedroom. He promptly guided them to the bed and pushed Sherlock down. Crawling on top of him to once again press their lips together rough, hungrily and almost feverishly. He then resumed fumbling with the buttons on the man's tight shirt. "God, Sherlock, how the hell do these not end up flying off when you move? Your shirts are so tight..."

"Hrm, I haven't been shopping in a while for fitting shirts... complaining?" He smirked and helped the man with the buttons; using practiced fingers to get into the fabric of the silk-like, purple shirt.

"Not at all. Though I get rather jealous of the looks you get from other people." John quickly pushed the shirt off of Sherlock's shoulders. His hands felt down the man's chest and stomach before trailing up his sides.

"Jealous? I doubt it; you have women hanging on you." Sherlock quipped before leaning up to recapture his lips and kicking off his shoes as an afterthought. The doctor's touch made him shiver pleasantly.

John's tongue slid across the back of Sherlock's teeth and the blond followed suit; his shoes falling atop of Sherlock's. "Distractions," he mumbled between feverish kisses. "And do you even realize how people look at you? It's like you're some sort of god-"

"Hrm? I would not relate me to fictitious beings." He flipped them over with surprising strength for being so thin. Now he was on top of John. "What would you have me do, John? Suck your cock into my mouth?" He licks his neck; biting it softly. "Or let me take you... maybe you take me...." He growled before sucking ever so slightly on his ear lobe and nipping it too.

"Oh, fuck..." John let out a moan as his hips bucked into Sherlock's without any restraint and he was certain the detective was lifted off his knees momentarily. "God, Sherlock..." He could feel his trousers tighten around him and was already almost painfully hard as he tilted his neck to expose more flesh to Sherlock's skillful mouth. His hand felt down his chest to the sensitive area just below his navel. Fingers sliding through the soft, short hairs that trailed under the band of his trousers.

Sherlock was lifted off the bed and he was not complaining about it. He leaned down to whisper. "I think I will make you cum a few different ways tonight, doctor...." He slid down to John's pants and took the zipper between his teeth. Making sure John was watching him, he eased the piece of metal down- painfully slow.

John let out a growl. His eyes piercing into Sherlock's light-blues and wanting to tell him to hurry the hell up but the sight was... well, he almost came right there. His hand reached out to once again weave into the man's dark curls; tugging just hard enough not to cause any pain as his own head snapped back onto the bed. "Christ, Sherlock, I want you.... I've fucking wanted you...." he managed to groan out.

Sherlock finished what he was doing with the zipper and growled out as he also undid the button of John's trousers with his teeth. Soon as that was done he used his hands to pull the pants off in one swift motion. The term Mycroft had used on him- "virgin"- had never been so misused. He smirked at the red boxers and ripped them off as well to reveal John's manhood. "Beg for it..."

John let out a groan as his hands clenched into the covers of his bed and his toes curled. He was not prone to begging- ever- but there was a first time for everything. One day he would be the first person to have Sherlock beg for mercy and he would swell with pride (in more than one way). Right now, though, his arousal was twitching and he was practically writhing under Sherlock's grip. "God, Sherlock, please...." he managed to grit out. A film of sweat had already begun covering his skin.

Sherlock would have grinned if he could, but alas his mouth was full. He sucked hard on the head of John's sex. Running his tongue down the lower side of it while using one hand to massage his balls and his canine to stimulate the opening at the top. "Calm down, doctor…" He soothed after taking a breath. He pushed his lips over the cap to swirl his tongue against the salty urethra opening in the top and John tensed. Sherlock hummed around the flesh; making John's breath catch and his back arch. He wanted to give John a hard orgasm first before he took him. The taller man stopped teasing the slit and took the shaft down his throat. Curling his tongue around the underside and stroking it as he went. Sherlock had never been so glad he had actually researched something for once.

"Sherlock!" John almost screamed and he came into his throat. Sherlock swallowed it and licked his lips. The taste was surprisingly bitter. He crawled up toward the man again to briefly capture his lips before whispering, "Are you ready?" He barely resisted the urge to take him right then and there.

John looked him in the eye. "I've been ready. Lube first."

That was all the incentive he needed. "Prop your legs on my shoulders," he purred. John did as requested and Sherlock folded his own legs under him to scoot closer as he reached between the blond's thighs. He had purchased a bottle of lube the other day and used it to aid in prepping him first before working him over. He gently stroked the exposed, puckered ring of pink flesh with fingers slick from his own precum and lube; watching as it tightened for a moment before John consciously relaxed.

The inviting way the blond loosened up told Sherlock he was very ready and willing for this. He eased the tip of one finger in and pushed; studying the smaller man's features as he breached him. He worked in more, loosening the other. John's teeth worried his lower lip and he quivered a little around the digit, but he did not resist him. Sherlock wasted no more time. He rocked forward and filled the blond with his aching length- slowly and steadily. John's head fell back and his breath exploded from his mouth with a low cry. His eyes went blank and he wondered just how deep Sherlock could go before he was finally in all the way. The detective did not stop. It was intense. The stretching, the hardness, the heat of him… John was sure he was going to die right then and there.

His nerves screamed with pleasure as Sherlock's rigid flesh slid against a spot inside of him. Sherlock bent over him; pushing his legs further back and apart as he filled him completely. He thrust hard to make John scream each time as he hit his prostate. Groaning, John's arms tightened around Sherlock's neck as he started coming hard. He sucked in another ragged breath and let it out again in a long, unbroken moan. "John!" Sherlock groaned shakily; kissing his arching throat with loving sweeps of his mouth. He cupped the back of the blond's head and held him to his chest. Closing his eyes when the smaller man's cries of pleasure shivered over his skin. He kept pumping his hips with smooth, steady strokes even after John's trembling eased and his cries died away. Sherlock orgasmed hard enough to see black spots and spilt himself. John let out another cry as they rode it together.

Sherlock laid his head on John's shoulder as they uncoiled from each other and withdrew from his cock from the other man. The phone rang from the living room while they caught their breath again. "That's undoubtedly Lestrade about to inform me that our sniper just turned himself in."

John breathed a satisfied sigh and let a hand run through Sherlock's hair. "And why would he do that? The sniper, I mean."

Sherlock pulled back and smiled at him. Then planted a softer, loving kiss on John's lips. "I've heard my winks cause people to do things they wouldn't normally do." He said softly as a smooth thumb caressed the cheek before him.

"I think I can agree with that." John replied tenderly, with a gentle smile on his face.


End file.
